


Hot Legs

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Top!Sam, Underwear Kink, Wincest - Freeform, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:13:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean sees that Sam is in need of cheering up, and takes a few extra steps than normal to do that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Legs

**Author's Note:**

> Like I even need an excuse to write good and smutty Wincest.

The fact that Bobby even had a second house was a surprise to both of them.

Sam and Dean were tracking a particularly nasty nest of vamps in a small town in Southern Minnesota. However, it also happened to be the same small town where an uncle of Bobby's had lived and left to him a decently sized house, and they were both glad for once that they didn't have to stay in a third-rate motel where the paint was peeling from the walls. Sure the appliances in the house had been bought in the 1980s but they were all in immaculate condition, Bobby's uncle having been somewhat of an obsessive compulsive when it came to that sort of thing.

Thus far they had killed half of the vamps, and decided that the rest could wait until tomorrow. They were both in the living room, peeling off their bloodstained clothes. Sam sighed with resignation as he realized the shirt he had been wearing was truly ruined, torn to shreds and soaked in blood. He tossed it to the floor and stood. “Hey Dean, you think these pants are salvageable?” He turned in a circle, letting Dean inspect them for tears and other blemishes.

Dean inspected them, looking Sam's long legs up and down. “Just bleach them out and they should be okay. Course if you want to take them off now and, you know...” Dean waggled his eyebrows at Sam, a suggestive smile creeping onto his face.

Sam let out another sigh. “Not in the mood Dean, really.” His body ached from where a vamp had gut-punched him and another had swept his legs from under him, causing him to fall hard on his back. His body was going to be covered in bruises tomorrow, he knew it. He just wanted a long shower, food, and then to pass out in the king sized bed in the back of the house.

“S'okay, Sammy, I understand.” The boy really did look beat, and Dean suddenly wanted to kiss the angry dark splotches across Sam's torso. Besides, if Sam was down for the rest of the day, then that would give him time to get some things from town.

He'd had a little fantasy playing through his mind lately that he was sure Sam would get on board with when he found out what it was.

He watched Sam start for the bathroom, removing his jeans to leave them lying in front of the couch. Dean got up and before Sam could get too far, put his arms around his waist and pulled him to his body, doing so gently as not to hurt Sam any further. He kissed the back of Sam's neck, his arms around Sam's now unclad chest. “Can I at least come shower with you?”

Dean's warm body pressing against him along with his strong arms around him were making it awfully difficult to say no to him. “Only if you promise no funny business.”

“Just like, this much funny business?” Dean held up a hand, making a small space between thumb and forefinger.

“Dean....”

“A handjob?”

“Dude I'm serious, just... no.”

Dean let go of Sam and came around to face him. “Sammy, what's wrong?”

“Today's Dad's birthday.” Sam's face suddenly looked very worn.

“Sam you... you remembered?”

“Of course Dean. I mean yeah he was a sorry excuse for a parent sometimes but he was still our dad. And....” Sam swallowed against the spring of emotion that he had suddenly felt come up inside him. “The last present I gave him was a punch to the face after he got drunk and called me worthless.” Sam's head dipped, his hands clenching and unclenching in fists. “And I didn't tell you. I should have told you I hit him, but I didn't. I was afraid you would hit me but Dean.... I couldn't just stand there and take that.” The last part of what he said came out in a hoarse whisper.

Dean could tell that Sam was fighting back tears. “Baby boy you are not worthless. Especially not to me.” Dean reached out and took Sam's hands. “You don't let him get you down Sammy. He's gone now.” He stepped closer and put a hand on the side of Sam's face. “Besides, you've got me. Always have Sammy.” Dean smiled warmly, and Sam couldn't help but smile back. “There's that pretty smile.” He kissed Sam gently, still smiling as he did. “We can do something tonight to remember him if you want. I'll behave, promise.”

“Well... there is one thing.”

“What's that Sammy?”

“Can we just stay in tonight? I'm not exactly up for a bar right now. Just hang out, you know.”

Dean thought about this for a moment. “Sure Sammy. I'll go out, grab us a bite, maybe see if there's a good video rental store still open in this tank town, huh?”

“Sounds good Dean. And thanks.” Sam pulled on Dean's face for another kiss, and Dean let himself be drawn into his nearly naked, tall, wonderful little brother. Sam pulled him backwards until he was leaning against the wall, and he reached up and pushed Dean's bloodstained outer shirt off, leaving just his t-shirt. Sam opened his mouth, and gently probed his tongue against the inside of Dean, catching the taste of his older brother on him. He felt Dean go limp in his arms, just like he always did when Sam kissed him like this. Dean was always so strong, raw power and cool masculinity, but when Sam held him and kissed him as he was now, Dean let all of that down, letting Sam show him affection and tenderness. Sam understood that his older brother needed it just as badly as he did, and Sam had plenty to give.

Dean hummed into Sam's mouth as he reached behind Sam and placed his hands on his buttocks, holding him steady. Sam had a hand under Dean's t-shirt, rubbing up and down his spine, relaxing away some of the tension he felt in his muscles. Dean tensed up and then relaxed again as Sam gently drug his fingernails over the warm skin. Dean made a contented sound as Sam went up, then back down, and up again, several times, each time getting slower.

Sam broke the kiss and pulled his mouth just far enough away to speak. “I feel better now.”

Dean was more or less being held up by Sam, his head on Sam's shoulder. “Mmmm. Me too Sammy.” Dean had relaxed considerably under Sam's hand.

“Can I uh... go shower now?” Dean picked his head up, and his eyes looked a lot greener than they usually did, brimming with warmth and happiness.

Sam's breath hitched and before he could stop himself he said “Fucking gorgeous.” He picked up a hand and ran his thumb over Dean's cheek, just drinking in Dean's face, his eyes, everything. Sam realized what he was doing and stopped, a little uncomfortable over touching Dean like that, like he was some sort of object and not his older brother/boyfriend/soulmate.

“S... sorry Dean.” He noticed that Dean hadn't backed away, or even made an attempt to do so. “It's alright Sammy. I know I'm hot.” A cheeky smile spread across his face. “C'mon – the rest of me looks even better, especially when wet.”

Sam was thinking maybe he did want to do sinful things to Dean's body after all.

. . .

After a shower that involved a copious amount of making out and hasty washing as they realized the hot water was running out, Dean climbed into the Impala, running through his mental list of things to pick up in town. Sam had stayed behind, volunteering to hold down the fort and tend to some of his bruises. Sam was being serious when he told Dean he hurt, and Dean wanted nothing more than to lay Sam out on the bed naked and kiss every single one of those hurt spots until they were better, but Sam insisted on him leaving, promising that he would be alright until he got back.

It was late afternoon as Dean pulled into the small town. It wasn't tiny, but there couldn't have been more than a couple thousand people that lived here. Regardless, he did notice that there was a good selection of shops where he could likely find what he was looking for. He had told Sam that it might take him awhile to run his errands, but his younger brother was by that point lost in some novel he had found on one of the bookshelves in the den.

The first place he pulls up to is a tattoo parlor. Given that it looks about as homey and open as the rest of the town does, Dean decides that maybe it won't be skeezy. As it turned out, he was right. A sweet looking elderly woman with a dragon winding its way down her arm picked her head up from the magazine she was perusing and smiled at Dean. “What can I do for you today sir?”

Dean put on the full Winchester smile, dazzling and white, and said “I'm far more interested in what you can do for me.” Dean even threw in a wink for good measure. The lady cooed with embarrassment, and said “Well I can do you a nice piece, piercing, or maybe a little of both. Here at Nell's Body Art we deliver nothing but the best.”

Dean regarded her for a moment. “We?”

“Oh silly me. Sandy!” An equally elderly lady with a tiger clawing its way up her neck stepped out from a door behind the counter, setting down a box. “This is my twin sister Sandy. She's the expert with the needle.”

“Oh Nell, stop it. Now you're just showing me off.” The two ladies dissolved into a tittering of giggles, and Dean stood there awkwardly as he waited for it to pass. He had finally screwed up the courage to have this done, and now the only people in the world who could deliver to him what he wanted were having their own private laugh fest. He cleared his throat, loudly, and they finally managed to calm themselves.

The one named Nell asked, still laughing somewhat, asked “What can we do for you today young man?”

Dean reached into his back pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, unfolding it and saying “I want this, in henna, across my lower back. Full on tramp stamp.” The design said, in elegant lettering “Property of Sam Winchester.” Dean tried to keep his voice sounding confident. He was sure he wanted to do this, for Sam, but the thoughts of someone else seeing his skin like this made his throat go dry. He wasn't lying when he said only his Sammy got to see him so intimately.

Sandy studied the design for a moment. “We can fix you right up honey. Just follow me.” The place was empty aside from him, and his footsteps echoed loudly on the wooden floor. He ran through his mental checklist, looking for signs that the two ladies might be demons. After all, he was about to be lying facedown while a complete stranger painted him. Dean had thought for a split second about getting it permanently, but had thought better of it. Besides, henna would suit his purpose just fine.

Sandy gestured towards an alcove where a wide variety of inks and skin brushes stood ready. Dean took a deep breath and removed his flannel, red and white today, and then the dark green t-shirt underneath, and laid down on the tattooing table. He heard Sandy wash her hands in the sink, and then the snick of rubber gloves going over hands.

He very badly wanted to pick his head up and watch her, just to make sure she didn't try anything odd, but he laid his head down and willed himself to trust her. He felt the coolness of an alcohol swab over his back, and then the scrape of a razor blade to take away the hair growing there. Sandy was humming “Paint It Black” to herself and Dean found himself singing the words along with her.

“You know the Stones?” Sandy asked as she opened up a tube of henna ink.

“Sure do. The one band that Sam and I agree on that is indisputably awesome. Hopefully catch them before they all die.” Sandy chuckled lightly, a smile pushing back her wrinkled face. “So tell me more about Sam.”

Dean's insides melted as he thought of Sam, tall and perfect. “He's terrific. Just... terrific. He's the love of my life, even though I don't so much put that into words. But he... he's got all of this long brown hair, it's so soft and just... it should be a crime for hair to be that perfect. And he's got this smile that lights up the room. And he's tall, really, really tall. Love it when he holds me, makes me feel safe. Loved. Better than anything else in the world.” Dean normally let himself go on and on like this, but he it was Sam he was talking about.

“And you love him?” Sandy was reaching for another tube of ink.

“Yeah. More than anything or anyone else.”

Sandy smiled to herself. “And he loves you back?”

“See that's the best part, because it's true. I thought I loved him more but... Sandy he loves me twice as hard as I love him. I don't believe in a whole lot of higher powers, but I think Sam definitely qualifies as a blessing. Even if I die a poor, poor man, I'll be rich beyond measure because I have him in my life.”

Sandy wiped a tear away as she finished up. “He's a lucky guy... I'm sorry I didn't get your name.”

“It's Dean.” Dean turned and flashed her a smile that could have melted ice.

“Well Dean, I think we're all done here. Want to see it?” She gestured towards a large mirror standing in the corner of the room. Dean got up and inspected his temporary modification, and said, nodding “Perfect.” He reached for his wallet and said “How much?”

Sandy shooed away the cash he was offering. “On the house sweetheart. Now run along back to Sam – I'm sure he misses you.”

Dean smiled again, and went out the door. As soon as he was gone, Sandy turned to Nell and gestured towards Dean's retreating back. “That's a beautiful thing, right there Nell. Almost like what me and Dave used to have, before he passed.”

Nell put a hand on Sandy's shoulder. “Now, now, no use in getting all teary-eyed. Come on, I'll finish your backpiece while we wait on the next customer.”

. . .

Dean drove to the next place, a shoestore that looked like it would have a wide selection of footwear. He noticed that it wasn't a chain store, but a local one. Higher prices most likely, but Sam was worth it. He strode into the shop, full of confidence that he was really trying to make himself feel. A younger man appeared from the back room at the sound of the bell tinkling against the door, and he approached Dean. “What can I do for you today sir?”

“Cowboy boots. Size eleven, eleven and a half if you've got 'em.” The clerk looked down at Dean's feet, and said “Right this way.” He led Dean to the far back corner of the store, and stepped aside. “Here are all of our boots. Just make your selection and yell when you're done.” The man went back into the stockroom, and Dean was left alone. There were a couple of other customers in the store, but they paid no attention to Dean. Dean shucked off his biker boots, and picked up a pair of black leather cowboy boots, feeling the cool leather under his fingers. He put them on, and they fit as though they were made for him, hugging his feet just right. Making sure that he was still alone, he put his hands on his hips, and as he walked about ten paces, rolled his hips, making sure his ass jiggled in a way that he was still working himself up to let Sam see, much less anyone else. Satisfied that they would work, he took them off and called for the clerk.

Five minutes later, boots stowed safely in the trunk, he was off again, heading towards his next destination.

. . .

It's not that Sam was worried about Dean being attacked or anything, but he'd been gone far too long to just be getting supplies and dinner. He put down his book, unable to concentrate any more on it. He went to the refrigerator, and bypassing the beer that they had bought a couple of days ago, opened up a bottle of the orange juice that Dean had only protested a little bit at buying. It was nice having an actual house to stay in, not a skeezy motel room or some ramshackle place that could be knocked down by a strong gust of wind. That and the big king sized bed had made for some incredible memories already. That first night they had bypassed sleep completely and fucked each other silly into the small hours of the morning.

Moreover, this place felt like it could be home, almost. They could handle the cold Minnesota winters, and the town, while small, was only an hour from Minneapolis, should they need a larger city for whatever reason. He was sure Bobby would let them stay there, all they had to do was ask. He was letting his thoughts run wild with images of Dean and he just... living together when Dean came crashing through the door, accompanied by the smell of Chinese food and the heavy clomp of his boots. Sam rose from the couch and strode over to Dean, kissing him full on the mouth, Dean's hands still holding their dinner and other groceries.

Sam broke the kiss and they both said at the same time “I was thinking.” Dean paused. “You go first Sam.”

Sam took a deep breath. “Do you think that maybe after we get done with this vamp nest we could talk to Bobby about you know, living here? I'm kinda getting attached to the place. And it's just that the last few days have been good. Excluding the whole hunting bloodsuckers thing, of course. But Dean... just think about it, alright? Sure the place needs a little work but we can fix it. We can make it ours.”

Dean smiled. “Sounds pretty good to me Sam, really. Kinda been thinking about it myself actually. I'd love to sleep in a king sized memory foam bed with you every night. Sex and a comfortable mattress? Yeah, I like the sound of that.” Sam smiled and offered to take some of the things that Dean was holding.

Sam put the groceries away, thankful for a large refrigerator that actually had enough room for all of the food they had. He noticed that Dean had actually bought some vegetables, and a gallon of milk to go with the not one but two boxes of cereal. Yeah, Dean had definitely been thinking about staying. That though brought a lot of warmth to Sam's heart, and he turned to speak to Dean, but he had left the kitchen.

Sam closed the refrigerator, and picked up a box of Chinese, the smell of sweet and sour pork mixing in a very appetizing way with steamed vegetables. He walked into the den, where Dean was currently behind the massive TV console, plugging in the DVD player that he had picked up from a Goodwill earlier. Sam noticed that there were three movies on the timeworn coffee table, _Lawrence of Arabia_ (one of Sam's favorites) _Good Will Hunting_ (one of Dean's favorites, even if he would never admit it) and one that really made Sam raise his eyebrows – _The Jungle Book_. It then occurred to him why Dean had bought that one. Sam had watched it with Dean and their father the night Dean moved from the third to fourth grade, and it had remained one of Sam's happiest memories.

Dean rose from his spot on the floor, dusting his hands on the fronts of his jeans. He saw Sam looking down at the movies on the coffee tables, knowing exactly what was going through his mind. He stepped to where he was right under Sam's nose, and tilted his head up to look him in the eye. “I know Sammy.” He pulled Sam into a hug, resting his face in the crook of Sam's neck. “I know.”

. . .

Dean woke up the next morning, feeling rejuvenated. He and Sam had staid up long past midnight, watching movies and just talking, like normal people would do. Sam had laid on the couch with his head in Dean's lap, smiling up at him, talking, debating, and teasing Dean in only the way brothers could. Dean had loved every second of it, because he knew that he would always have it. He rolled over and pressed his body to Sam's warm back, kissing his neck and rubbing the side of his body gently.

Sam made a noise, still mostly asleep and rolled so that he could get his arms around Dean, his head pressed to Dean's chest. “Sammy, wake up. Got vamps to hunt and thongs to wear.” Sam shot up, his eyes going wide. “Come again?”

Dean smiled, eyes full of mischief. “And he's awake. Morning Sam.” Sam's response was to shove Dean as hard as he could, and Dean was still laughing as he tumbled to the floor, Sam following to dig his fingers into his sides, tickling him for all he was worth.

Sam got Dean on his front, straddling his hips and holding Dean's hands above his head with one hand, the other tickling away at him. Dean's laughter was completely unrestrained, and a small part of him couldn't help but be turned on the fact that Sam could hold him down with one hand.

Sam glanced down where the shirt Dean had worn to sleep in had rucked up, and he saw... ink? Dean shot out from underneath him, flipping Sam as he stood. Sam looked up at him in confusion. “Dean did you get a tattoo?”

Dean shook his head. “Must be a trick of the light Sam. What, did you not get enough sleep?”

Sam regarded him with a careful look. “Uh-huh. Trick of the light.” He couldn't help but notice how Dean was blushing, and instantly he knew something was up.

“You'll just have to wait and find out later Sammy.” Dean backed out of the bedroom, watching Sam as he winked and made his way to the bathroom.

. . .

Even thought they had taken out half of the vamps the day before, Sam and Dean still had a hard time fighting the rest, not only because they were prepared for them but they were also full of vengeance, the desire to avenge their dead brethren fueling them. By some massive stroke of luck, they managed to finish them off without too much injury, save for Dean being knocked flat when a vampire dropped from the ceiling and land on him, only for Sam to behead it.

They were both making their tired way back up to the house, Sam favoring one foot where he had nearly twisted an ankle trying to back up and swing his machete at the same time when a vamp he thought had been finished suddenly jumped back up. He leaned against Dean slightly, cursing his clumsiness. He was tired and covered with sticky blood. Needless to say, he wasn't happy.

Dean noticed the discontented look on his brother's face. “Say Sam – why don't you go shower first, and then get comfortable in the living room. I've got a little something that'll make you feel a lot better.” Dean winked, and the smile he gave Sam could have warmed the cockles of even an archangel's heart.

. . .

Thirty minutes later, body scrubbed of gore and vamp blood, Sam pulled on a fresh pair of jeans, a flannel shirt on his body, just the first few buttons on the bottom undone. Dean had said to be comfortable, so he had done just that. What was taking Dean so long, he had no idea. For the time being, Sam settled himself in the living room's easy chair. He was about to get up and get another book on the shelf when he heard a click, and the arm of the record player dropped, and Rod Stewart's “Hot Legs” filled the room.

Dean entered the room, and Sam's jaw hit the floor, his eye wide.

Dean was wearing an old t-shirt a size to small, gripping every muscle in his arm and body, a pair of jeans that he had fashioned into a pair of Daisy Dukes, and the black cowboy boots that made Sam's dick jolt with every step as they hit the wooden floor, Dean rolling his hips, outright sauntering over to Sam.

What astounded Sam even more was when Dean gave him an honest to God lap dance, denim-clad rear teasing over Sam's groin, grinding down on him, never breaking eye contact with Sam, lust coloring his irises an even darker shade of green. Sam wasn't sure what to think, but he knew that his body liked it, and with the way Dean was putting himself on display for Sam, the younger Winchester was very much aroused.

The song finished, and at the end Dean jumped off of Sam and pulled the t-shirt over his head, turning so that Sam could see his back.

Sam's eyes bugged out and he smiled wider than he ever had, and tackled Dean to the floor, pulling him into an embrace. Sam attacked Dean's mouth with his own, the rest of the album playing in the background. Dean kicked off the boots that were currently on his feet, and he felt Sam's bare feet against his and for whatever reason that turned him on that much more. Sam broke the kiss and Dean asked “Sammy like?”

Sam smiled, lust burning in his eyes. “Sammy like a lot. Fucking hell Dean, you...” He let his tongue speak for him as he gave Dean a bruising kiss, then moved to kiss down Dean's neck, nipping and biting at him, every sharp contact of Sam's teeth making Dean's cock that much harder. Dean reached down and unbuttoned the three buttons that Sam had fastened, and Sam's shirt was gone as he pulled it from his shoulders. Having so much of Sam under his hands to touch and caress made him feel like the rest of the world didn't exist, just Sam.

Sam took one of Dean's nipples in his mouth, and bit down on it, Dean hissing past the initial pain, distracted by how Sam was opening up his shorts and pulling them down. Sam stopped when he didn't feel the familiar cotton of boxers.

Dean was wearing a hot pink thong.

And his cock was straining hard against the flimsy material.

And it took precisely a second for Sam to be in between his brother's legs, sucking him through it. Dean moaned and buried his hands in the thick brown locks of Sam's head, ever nerve in his body singing out as Sam sucked him, moving aside the thin strip of fabric between Dean's cheeks to tease at his entrance. Dean bucked his hips up as Sam moved aside the front of the thong and took Dean all the way into his mouth, salty precum coating Sam's tongue.

Sam reached down and freed his own cock, not having bothered with underwear earlier. Any intentions at taking slow were gone. He needed to be inside Dean soon. He caught some of the precum gathering at the end of his cock and applied it to the area around Dean's entrance, taking steps to prepare him.

Right as Dean felt as though he was going to cum, Sam took away his mouth and moved to lick a broad stripe between the cleft of Dean's cheeks. Dean moaned as Sam worked his hole, tongue-fucking him expertly, in only the way Sam knew how. Sam pushed Dean's legs apart further, wanting to taste as much of Dean as possible, and Dean gripped his legs, holding them apart for Sam. Seeing Dean open himself up like that made Sam go wild, and he pulled down on Dean's hips and really got down to business, one hand slowly working Dean's cock, the other holding Dean down so he couldn't go anywhere. Without even so much as saying a word, Sam had him completely under his control, right where he wanted him.

“Sam...Sam...Sam...” Dean chanted the word over, and over again, and with one more long lick that started at the base of Dean's body and finished at his mouth, Sam kissing him like he was a drowning man struggling for air. Between the taste of himself and Sam, Dean nearly lost it right there. Sam reached down and pulled the thong the rest of the way off of Dean's hips. He also noticed that Dean had trimmed his pubic hair to where it was just right against the skin. He makes a note to ask him about it later, perhaps after he's got Dean all blissed out and laying pliant in his arms.

Sam reached into the pocket of his jeans, which were halfway down his legs, and extracted a small packet of lube. He kicked the garment the rest of the way off, and squirted half the contents onto himself and then onto Dean's spit-slick entrance. He positioned himself so that he could ease into Dean and kiss him at the same time, a little trick that Sam had found long ago made Dean go crazy for him.

Dean's tight entrance closed around Sam, impossibly warm and wonderful. He kept his lips locked with Dean's as he slowly began to pump his hips, long, slow motions that he knew would hold Dean right on the edge of ecstasy for a long time. Dean had one hand pressing on the small of Sam's back and the other in his hair, threading it through his fingers. They didn't notice that the music had stopped some time ago, the room silent save for the sound of flesh against flesh, their moans muffled somewhat by the fact that Sam still had his lips on Dean's kissing him slow and tender, tongues sliding against each other in a rhythm that Sam would only describe as perfect.

Sam could tell by the way that Dean pressed down on him more urgently that he was going to cum soon, and he reached down in between them to grip Dean's cock, angling himself a little further upwards to hit Dean's swollen prostate. He stroked Dean in time with his thrusts, slowing down his already lethargic pace to really drive it home, slow motions that made Dean cry tears of pleasure. Sam was more and more turned on by the way he had Dean right now, and he broke their kiss for just a moment. “Cum for me Dean.” Sam gave one more long stroke up Dean's cock, and he exploded upwards, cum arcing out in long, white ropes that hit Sam in the bottom of the chin and covered Dean's torso.

Feeling Dean's cum all over him like that had Sam cumming too, and he threw his head back, letting out a low bellow as he came, his hands gripping the rug around Dean's head, vaguely hearing “That's it baby boy, cum for me.” He collapsed forward, landing hard on Dean's body, his shoulders heaving as he regained his breath. Dean kissed the side of his head, his ear, anywhere he could get his mouth as he stroked up and down Sam's back, relaxing him. Sam rolled off of him after a moment and they both laid there, sprawled in the floor of a house that they might be able to call their own.

Sam was the first to speak. “Daisy Dukes and a pink thong?”

Dean chuckled. “Honestly I was taking a gamble on that one. But it just came to me one day out of the blue. I thought to myself that maybe you'd like. And now seemed as good a time as any to bust a move.” Dean turned and smiled at Sam, white teeth flashing in the early evening sunlight.

“I didn't even know I could be that turned on. But I have to know – the tattoo is henna, right?”

“Course it is. Besides...” He sat up to look Sam in the eye and cup the side of his face, his voice getting quieter. “Why would I need to do something like that when I know I'm yours anyway. Personally I like love bites better.” Dean leaned down to give him a tender kiss, causing Sam to make a small noise of contentment as he did.

Sam broke the kiss and held Dean's gaze. “Not that I didn't get a kick out of seeing it written on your skin.” He smiled up at Dean, full of bliss and warmth. Dean got up from the floor and offered to pull Sam up with him. “Besides, I figured it would go with the outfit.”

Sam started to the bathroom to get cleaned up. “I promise I won't tell the world you look drop dead sexy in Daisy Dukes.”

Dean put a hand on his shoulder and turned Sam to him. “I don't know Sammy, people would pay good money to see that.”

“Trouble is they'd have to get through me first.” Sam kissed him one more time, his hands on Dean's hips.

After a moment Dean pulled back. “Want to stay in again or go see if this town has a decent bar?”

Sam thought for a moment. “Bar hopping. Kinda want people to see those pretty marks on your neck. Then maybe afterwards.... well you tell me Dean, how does a blowjob before bed sound?” Sam winked at him as he stepped into the bathroom and grabbed for a towel.

Dean smiled again. “Perfect.”

And it was.


End file.
